Three months later. One week before Winter Solstice.
"...Hua. Sister Hua!"
"Huh?!" Zi Hua flinched.
A small hand waved in front of her face impatiently, its owner a pouting girl with some baby fat in her rosy cheeks. Butterfly lashes framed her eyes hiding jade undertones if one looked hard enough. Mini sunflowers secured her dark brown hair into twin braids—Zi Hua's handiwork before her mind had wandered off far, far away.
"I was asking if you want to attend the Winter Solstice Festival together," the girl huffed.
"Don't we already do that every year?' Zi Hua asked, perplexed she would question a silent consensus.
"I knew you were distracted—that wasn't even my real question! You were thinking about him, weren't you?" the girl exclaimed, a disapproving frown on her youthful face.
"N-no, I wasn't!" Zi Hua stuttered.
The girl rolled her eyes. "You can't lie to save your life, Sister Hua. Besides, it's been months since that Zhen whoever left. Face it—he's not returning."
Zi Hua lowered her eyes to hide the sudden pang in her heart. "I know that," she lied. "But... he promised we would meet again."
"Did he say when? Where? Will he visit or send word? What are his feelings towards you? What is his real name?"
Question by question, the other girl acutely tore through the delusional cocoon she had wrapped herself in since Sir Zhen's abrupt departure, exposing the insecurity, doubt, and helpless longing underneath.
Two months and three days ago, he had said urgent matters awaited him in the capital, that they would see each other again soon. Had he specified when? Had she even asked...?
All she remembered was his smile, as blinding as the majestic sun; his eyes, tender and full of her reflection; his fingers, callused like a warrior's as they handed a clumsily woven flower crown to her...
Zi Hua sighed and stood to her full height, a whole head taller than the little know-it-all.
"Shangguan Jiu," she berated, hands on her hips, "young ladies should not be invested in another's love life. It is most improper."
Jiu'er just stared at her, blinking those harmless round eyes.
"Sister Hua, coming from someone who gallops throughout town barefaced," she finally said, "discussing propriety doesn't suit you."
Zi Hua's lips twitched. "I'm not the only one who does that."
"You are."
"Am not."
"Even the least particular noblewoman dabs a smidge of rogue like so"—Jiu'er pointed at her own pursed, coloured lips—"see?"
Zi Hua squished her face between her hands and squinted. "No way. I always thought your lips were naturally red!"
Jiu'er shrugged. "The power of safflower."
"But you're twelve!"
"My point exactly."
Just like that, Zi Hua's stern façade dissolved into sheepish laughter. "Fine..." she shook her head. "I won't think of Sir Zhen anymore. Promise."
"Very well," Jiu'er acquiesced reluctantly.
"Now, Jiu'er, you didn't think you could get away with teasing your big sis, did you?" Zi Hua suddenly pounced and tickled the young girl.
"Aah! Mercy! Pft— MERCY, SISTER HUAAAHAHAHAHA— I'M SORRY, PLEASE STOP—!!!"
It was a heart-warming moment. Two friends, as close as sisters, sharing laughter and making the most ordinary memories that they would one day reminisce fondly. The emotions were genuine, the weather was kind, and everything was simple.
However, it didn't last long.
A servant ran around the corner and skidded to a halt before them.
"Miss! There's someone... someone... from the... imperial palace..." she panted. "He... He—"
Zi Hua dusted off her skirt and stood up, Jiu'er following suit. "What is it, Yue'er? Speak slowly."
"Yes... My apologies, miss." Yue'er composed herself and said, "A messenger from the imperial palace has arrived. He requests your presence at the front courtyard immediately."
"Did he state his purpose?" Jiu'er asked.
"No, Young Lady Shangguan," Yue'er replied. "He will dictate the imperial edict only when our miss is present."
If not for Young Lady Shangguan's close relationship with her mistress, her interjection would have been considered rude, but luckily the Yang household was lenient and the miss didn't mind.
"Let's not keep him waiting, then," Zi Hua said calmly, leading the way.
But her rushed steps betrayed her inner turmoil—what could bring an esteemed guest from the imperial palace here? And to ask for her, not her father, at that?
Shangguan Jiu trailed after Zi Hua, dark green eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
It was this time of the year, so could it be that the emperor...
She bit her lip.
'Let's hope my guess is wrong.'
***
Yang Manor, front courtyard.
The imperial messenger was a portly eunuch whose belly strained against the dove embroidered on his dark blue uniform. As the scorching sun beat down on the near-barren courtyard, his face reddened from heat and impatience.
"Just my luck," he grumbled under his breath.
While his colleagues were off lining their pockets in prosperous cities full of shade and wealthy, generous nobles, he was sent to the very border of Xiping where there was nothing but fields for days, underdeveloped dirt roads, and stingy military officers. Truly the countryside of all countrysides—although this area wasn't worth developing since it would fall first if the barbarians successfully invaded.
'Pui!' the messenger admonished himself. 'Our Li Empire is mightier than every tribe in the Lawless Plains combined!'
In stark contrast to the short and judgmental visitor from the imperial palace, opposite him towered two armoured men carved from the same stoic, intimidating mould.
Ever since his arrival, neither Deputy General Yang nor his son had thought to offer him a gracious welcome, much less tea for his troubles. Instead, they'd obstructed his path to the inner house like two guardian statues, leaving him exposed to the elements. The worst part is they probably did it unintentionally, too.
The messenger clicked his tongue, mindfully eyeing the longswords strapped to their waists.
'Simple-minded brutes.'
Awhile later, the pitifully undisciplined servant he had sent to fetch her mistress finally returned with two young women.
The first, taller and with a maturity befitting the age criteria, wore a simple outfit more suited for outdoor activities than social ones. Her hair was tied up in an unruly high ponytail, and dust speckled the hem of her dress.
In comparison, the girl behind displayed much more composure, and an unreadable expression adorned what would surely grow from doll-like to a beguiling face in time. Playful flowers were woven into her twin braids—the style of maidens who had yet to come of age.
'Perhaps she will be who I present the edict to in a few years,' he thought.
Having completed his once-over, the messenger cleared his throat ceremoniously.
"All are present!" he announced. "Receive the imperial edict—!"
Everyone knelt, with Zi Hua at the forefront.
"The Emperor of Heaven and Earth proclaims—eldest legitimate daughter of Lower Fifth-Rank Deputy General Yang Guo, Yang Zi Hua, age seventeen, is eligible to participate in the first consort selection of His Majesty Emperor Tian's reign, effective immediately!"
Stunned silence filled the courtyard.
Gone were the curious, nervous, or unflappable expressions.
All except the dainty, collected girl seemed to not breathe, holding still as if lightning had struck them in broad daylight.
The messenger looked away from her, gave it a few more seconds, then said, "Courtier Yang, please accept the edict. We depart for the capital in two days."
Zi Hua couldn't remember how, but one moment she was rooted to the spot, and in the next the golden scroll was in her stiff hands. It felt softer than regular parchment, its edges adorned with decorative ink.
Excessive, expensive, and exacerbating.
Yet it sealed her fate.
Her silence made the messenger frown.
"Ahem!" he prompted. "Courtier Yang, aren't you forgetting something?"
Yes, yes... She should display her gratitude.
She swallowed past her dry throat. Once. Twice.
'Speak, Hua... Speak.'
"I, Yang Zi Hua... accept the imperial edict."
Kneel. Prostrate in the capital's direction.
"I thank His Majesty the Emperor for this eternal honour."
Lie.
"Long live Emperor Tian!"
Tears threatened to spill, but she did not let them. Could not afford to.
'Father, brother, Jiu'er... I'm sorry. We can't celebrate Winter Solstice together after all.'